Never Keep a Secret
by Hattie123
Summary: No real plot, more of a moment in an already magnificent tale, which I'm bending to my will. Aragorn and Legolas can't seem to tell each other the most important thing each had to say.


Title: 

Author: Hattie123

Pairings: Aragorn/Legolas

Rating: R

Summary: Thoughts of Aragorn and Legolas in Edoras…all is not settled in the Goloden Halls, and things that need to be said are being avoided. 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story. I don't own Middle Earth or anything in it. I don't have permission to do this but I'm making no profit from it. Don't sue, nothing to give you! 

Spoilers: Maybe weeny ones for TTT, but nothing major by any means. 

Authors note: Story written from the POV's of Aragorn and Legolas. Aragorn is the italicised writing, Legolas the ordinary. This is totally unlike my usual style, and I've never written anything in this way before, so let me know what you think. Please review, it doesn't take much and it will make my day! 

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It started with a look, so quick and fleeting I might have been mistaken. I think I wasn't.

One look from your eyes, darker than usual, your pupils larger…and I caught your eye and you glanced away. There was a strange look in your glance, one which I could not immediately interpret before you hastily looked away. You did look away…but not before you blushed - that was the second thing, the rosy flush which crept across your kingly cheekbones, only partly hidden by your beard. 

I doubt the others noticed - I doubt they were meant to. Even Eowyn, watching as she does your every move now you rest in her halls, does not always notice the subtleties and nuances of your moods. I do. And I noticed, and I remember them now…I will not forget.

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You caught my look today. I saw and was embarrassed…you were not. Hardly a reaction beyond the faintest of smiles, which curved your lips but did not touch your eyes. I recognise that smile, it is one I have seen before. Not just from you, but from many…Arwen, Elrond - Galadriel. It is a smile of superiority over the fact that you know something but will not tell, because you realise it was not meant to be witnessed. It was the smile Arwen gave me when she caught me indulged in a moments guilty pleasure from my own hand. When you caught me looking at you, I did not know whether to be embarrassed or angry or pleased, and I could not think why I should feel any of them. 

I said I would not forget. Neither, it seems, can you. I little know how many times along our travels there have been moments like this which I have failed to see, but now that I look out for them they are not in short supply. A look, an unnecessary or lengthened touch - an inflection of the voice. 

It is the voice I notice most of all. Raspy gravel and smooth water - a stream of words, syllables, sentences…you little know the effect of your voice on others. I will one day tell you, but only in my head. You belong to another, and you crave the light of your fading evening star more then ever you could want Eowyn's frosty beauty, or the maleness of my touch. But then what of your look…

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I know you have seen me watching you since, and it has made me wonder, not least about why I watch you at all. I still cannot decide. You remind me of a cat - your grace is feline predominantly, and fluid like water - more so even than that of Arwen. Yet you are by no means frail or insubstantial, but solid and lean- I would not like to fight you, I fear I know who would be worse off. You fit in wherever you are with an ease that is astonishing - the close, mysterious forest of Fangorn, the sweeping vista of Rohan, the rapids of the river. The only place you seem ill-comforted are these halls…I feel you would rather be in the trees. Like a cat. You stretched like a cat today and I felt…touched. I did not understand, and it made me angry, uncomfortable. I always thought that I preferred dogs…

You fit the halls of Theoden, you know. More so than the King, loathe to admit it though he is, or even Eomer, who is most at ease on the back of a horse in the open wilds. Yet there is in you the unease I feel also - you will not settle here, will not settle until you sit in your white city, a silver crown upon your head, an elven maid beside your throne…the white tree alive again. Nay, 'tis not you but your kingliness which fits. You will do well in the white city.

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I begin to tire of these halls, as I am sure do you. I feel wasted, sitting in comfort while Frodo draws ever nearer to the evil of the great eye, and Merry and Pippin are guarded by Treebeard. I know you trust him but then you would - a walking, talking tree is to you like a caravan is to a traveller, and he is just the type you would befriend. My uneasiness, however, is stayed only because Gandalf has such faith in him. Nonetheless, I wish to leave, to do something…anything.

You let Brego go today, I saw you from the Golden Hall. I wondered what it was you saw in him that is reflected in yourself. He is a kingly horse, but a loose cannon now his master is dead. You have no master, Aragorn, save for your fear of who you are, and who you have come from. But you are similarly lost…I would find you again, would it were your will. 

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You watched me from high in the city as Brego was loosed. They could not even take the halter off of him, poor devil. I am sure you would have managed had you come down, but you did not. When I returned to the halls you said nothing, but you watched me all the while, with a look I did not understand but felt was important nonetheless. I held your gaze for a moment before nodding and turning to leave. I felt you unrelenting gaze on my back until the doors had closed behind me. 

I thought of Arwen today. I wonder how often you do the same, or if she is in fact ever absent from your thoughts. You wear her jewel around your neck, her starlight ever immortalised in crystal, but you look at it less and less now. I know you have always felt of her as the starlight in your necklace - pure, unspoiled and perfect, but locked away and unattainable…at least until you wear silver on your crown and an insignia on your breast. I wonder if you ever will, laying aside the Strider whom you for so long bore.

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My thoughts were with the Evenstar for a time today - usually, inexplicably, they are with you. It is peculiar…I have not been gone from her long, and my absences have been more prolonged before, and yet in this time I feel my whole link with her has changed…no longer do I burn for her, and less and less I think of her. When I do, it is not with the consuming love it was before. She has become an ideal, something to strive for but never attain…I realise now I am closer to you than to her. You are immortal, flawless, ethereal like she, and yet…you are close enough to reach out and touch, and if I did I know you would feel real, in a way she never would. But I never will reach out…to capture the life of one immortal is a sin already…to contemplate the same again should serve to damn me.

I wonder what is holding you back. I am no fool, and neither am I uncertain. Both of these things you know. I have seen the way you look at me, and though I almost blush to think it, I know you want me. It would take a touch, just one…I would respond to you. I feel almost as though I should say - or rather, do - something, but I feel this must be on your terms. I spend much time thinking of this, wondering if it is guilt, fear of rejection or something else, propriety that holds you back, and I long to tell you there is no need to feel any of them. I understand your situation, I understand what you must do - but that is why it must be your terms. I will agree to them…I only wish you knew. 

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This peculiar longing for you which I cannot understand grows stronger. You re-strung a bow today, and the way your hands caressed the wood, and curled the strings you tied caught my attention and would not let go. I watched you till the end, and not just your hand but the angle of your calf and thigh, slender in their green breeches, the sleek, silver-gold curtain of your hair, kept back off of your face by the delicate braids behind your ears, the hollow at the base of your throat. You were intoxicating, exhilarating…oblivious. My longing to tell you grows stronger.

You watched me as I strung my bow. I felt your gaze roam over me for the full hour. It was all I could do to keep my hand from trembling, when all I wanted to do was reach out and take you in my arms. You said nothing, did not come nearer then four feet to where I sat on the floor, but your gaze held me. The only word I can find is…erotic. I was weak and shivery afterwards, and my control was only just intact enough to smile to you without an eyeful of innuendo. I - nor you - will not be so lucky next time. 

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It is our last night in these halls - we ride to Helms Deep and battle in the morn. I will not sleep tonight - not with the thought of you plaguing me. I cannot help but wonder how it would feel to hold you, to kiss you…to make love to you. I have lain with men before, in desperate times of battle where physical release is the only means of sanity, but this would be different…I would make love with you, not to you. Or that is what I tell myself. Would you respond? I think you would, I cannot know…it is early morn now, I must rise soon. I know I will not sleep…

These halls are cold at night. I feel it but do not mind it - I know it cannot harm me. The fire has burned low, and there is no point in using fuel when there is only me to appreciate it. I need no sleep tonight, and could not find it if I did - anticipation of battle, the thoughts of him…they make me restless. 

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I will go to the main hall, it will put my mind at rest. He will not be here, I am sure…he does not like it. I make a joking bet to myself that if he is I will tell him. Nay, show him…I smile to myself as I wander down the corridor, cold in my shorts and loose shirt.

You looked surprised to see me when you entered. I was surprised also, but hid it. You stopped in the doorway, asked if I would rather you left. I said not at all, told you to take a seat. You took the one closest to me. For a long time you said nothing, staring into the dead embers, a peculiar look on your face. I wanted you so much right then, as you looked into my face and said my name hesitantly, but with sincerity. 

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I looked at you, said your name and knew I couldn't tell you. If anything, I must show you…I am a man of actions rather than words, and so I stood up, knelt beside your chair. Your eyes were wide with surprise. I didn't look at them in case I lost my nerve.

I did not understand what you were doing when you slipped to the floor beside me, on your knees, your head level with mine. You spoke my name once more. I frowned a little, opened my mouth to respond and then you kissed me. It was so unexpected I could not respond for a moment, but as I felt you pull away, stricken, I came to my senses and kissed you back. Your tongue plunged once more into my mouth, and instantly I was on fire. My hands moved behind your head, closer to you but the chair was in the way. You must have felt my need for you pulled me off of it and to the floor with you, never breaking the kiss. I felt one hand slip beneath my shirt, teasing me until I gasped, and the other began to creep along my thigh. Bliss was not the word.

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We made love there on the carpet before the fire, clothes torn off and thrown aside. It was every bit as wonderful and different and perfect as I had imagined - I felt like we fitted. Afterwards we lay curled together on the rug, and I stroked your beautiful golden hair and smiled at you, and you smiled back and I knew that this was how it was meant to be…I did not think of Arwen, for she did not fit in this picture and hers was a different reality. After a time we moved back to my chamber, and slept the few hours to daybreak. Never will I keep anything from you again, Legolas. 


End file.
